Best That You Can Do
by JGL's Future Husband
Summary: Blaine Anderson is a childish New York City millionaire who is on the brink of an arranged marriage to an obnoxious heir, but ends up falling for a common working-class boy from Brooklyn. Klaine/one-sided Seblaine.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N**_: _Another_ new film-based fic, on Steve Gordon's 1981 film _Arthur_.

* * *

Blaine Anderson awoke that morning to find his breakfast on a tray in front of him, the hot chocolate still steaming. He smiled, mentally thanking his butler, and sat up.

"Master Anderson, you're awake, excellent. Your aunt wishes to speak with you about your inheritance." Blaine saw another tray headed towards him; from behind it was a young man, probably a few years older than himself, wearing a pair of thick black glasses and a beanie over his messy blond hair.

"Where's Angelique?" Blaine asked through a mouthful of bacon. The young man grimaced and placed the tray down next to the bed.

"Angelique has…how do I put this lightly? She quit because, and I quote, 'that boy is incorrigible and needs to grow the hell up'." Blaine looked scandalized, but the young man continued talking. "I'm Chandler Kiehl, your new butler. Now finish your breakfast and hurry. You know how your Aunt Sue doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Don't I know it?" he scoffed, drowning the last of his hot chocolate and stretching before getting out of bed. "Kiehl, where is my hair gel?" Chandler sighed and went into the bathroom, producing many cans as he returned.

"Why are these all empty?" Blaine demanded, pressing the tab on each one. "Didn't I say that my supply has to be full at all times?" He rounded on Chandler, who put his hands up defensively.

"Master Anderson, I just started this job this morning. I don't know all of your orders yet, but I will learn quickly," he said.

"You better," Blaine hissed. "Now go out and buy more, this kind specifically." He tossed a can to Chandler. Chandler headed out the front door, only to hear something smash behind him. He spun around to find Blaine next to an open window, throwing his empty gel cans out. Deciding to leave the environmental speech out, he left.

* * *

"Hi, I'd like all your cans of this brand please," Chandler said to the clerk at the drugstore on the corner, placing the can on the counter.

"You're the new butler for the Andersons, aren't you?" the clerk smiled grimly. Chandler nodded. "Good luck. The last one quit because she couldn't stand him."

"I don't blame her," Chandler muttered. The clerk went to the back and brought out a crate of hair gel. Chandler pulled his wallet out to pay, but the clerk stopped him.

"Don't pay for this. You don't want to. It just goes on their tab," he explained. "The boy's aunt pays us back, despite how much she hates it. Rumor has it she's going to revoke his inheritance if he doesn't get married soon."

"Nice to know, maybe someone can clean up his act," Chandler agreed. "Thanks." He lifted the crate and headed back.

* * *

"Blaine Anderson, get in here!" a voice boomed, making Chandler jump. He was sitting next to Blaine in the empty hotel lobby. Blaine grasped Chandler's hand nervously.

"It'll be okay, just go. Don't make her angrier than she already is," Chandler pressed.

"Ma'am, you wanted to see me?" Blaine asked sheepishly.

"Sit down, Gel-Head," Sue Sylvester ordered. Blaine complied. "I just got another bill from the drugstore down the street. You spent $350 on more hair gel?"

"The butler did it," Blaine said lamely.

"Like you didn't order him to," Sue scoffed. "Kiehl, get in here!"

"You summoned?" Chandler hurried into the room and saluted Sue.

"Did Anderson tell you to buy him more hair gel?"

"Yes, ma'am, he did," Chandler replied, earning himself a glare from Blaine. "The clerk at the drugstore put it on the tab."

"Well, that tab is out. Hobbit, you're cut off until you marry, and I've already taken the liberty of choosing your fiancé." Sue pressed a button and a tall brown-haired boy walked into the room and his green eyes widened at the sight of Blaine. "This is Sebastian Smythe, only son of Richard Smythe, the wealthiest man in New York. Meerkat Face, this is Blaine Anderson, my nephew and the most spoiled person in the city; well, maybe second to you. Now all of you get out of my office."

"So how about a date?" Sebastian asked, smirking.

"I'd sooner throw myself in front of a speeding bus," Blaine replied huffily.

"That can be arranged. I'm getting your fortune either way," Sebastian shrugged.

* * *

"I'm not getting married," Blaine said stubbornly as he rode the elevator back upstairs with Chandler.

"Well, my advice is never helpful, so it's all up to you," Chandler quipped, studying his nails. "Either you get married to that smirky jack-off or get cut off and live in squalor."

"What if I found someone else?" Blaine looked up at Chandler hopefully. "Do you think Aunt Sue would let me be with the other guy?"

"I never know what she's thinking, but you can try." Chandler unlocked the door and felt a sudden breeze behind him. He turned to see a young man run past them, trailed by two guards. The man looked back and Blaine looked over, falling instantly in love.

"Who is _that_?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh, him again; I saw him this morning giving illegal tours through the Upper East Side," Chandler replied. "Blaine, where are you going?" Blaine had taken off down the hall after the guards.

Blaine found himself in the hotel lobby and the young man being apprehended by two burly security guards.

"Listen, I never heard any law about giving tours to people," the man was saying. All Blaine heard was the voice of an angel. The man had coifed brown hair, one side of which hung lazily into his green-gray eyes.

"Ah, Mr. Hummel, we meet yet again. Still giving illegal sightseeing trips?" The hotel manager, Dustin Goolsby, came out of his office, straightening his tie.

"Oh great, you're still here," Kurt muttered. "But yes, it's how I make a living since my career onstage failed…miserably," he added in an undertone.

"Escort Mr. Hummel off the premises," Goolsby ordered the guards, who nodded and began dragging the man out. Blaine rushed after them and found the man sitting on the sidewalk.

"Hi," he said. The man looked up and smiled softly.

"Hi. I'm Kurt Hummel; you may know me as the guy who gives tours. I'm just a plain, simple nobody who needs money to support his father."

"I'm Blaine Anderson. It's nice to meet you." Kurt's eyes widened at this.

"Blaine Anderson, heir to the Anderson fortune? Wow," Kurt said, grinning. "Actually I've only heard bad things about you, especially from my cousin; she used to work for you."

"Who's your cousin?" Blaine looked curious.

"Angelique Cross," Kurt replied. "She called you an immature, selfish little bastard who needs to clean up his act." By the look on Blaine's face, he added, "Those are just her words."

"You're beautiful," Blaine said abruptly and Kurt looked surprised. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It just came out."

"Don't worry about it. I've had a lot of guys telling me I'm beautiful and they never mean it, so I'm used to it," Kurt said, looking a little downtrodden. Blaine frowned and sat down next to Kurt on the sidewalk, but a limo pulled up in front of them.

"Hey, Blainers, we have a date, remember?" Sebastian rolled down the window and smirked.

"I never agreed to that," Blaine said, pulling out his Smart Phone and scanning the calendar.

"I'm gonna go." Kurt stood up and turned to Blaine. "It was nice meeting you, Blaine."

"Thanks, Sebastian, you ruined it," Blaine snapped as he stood up himself.

"I'm your fiancé, he's not. Anyway, he's just some lower-class loser. I mean, look at his clothes. They're so…last year," Sebastian scoffed. Blaine scowled and took a deep breath to keep from exploding. "Calm down, baby, let's have a nice lunch and talk about the wedding."

* * *

"So I was thinking a black wedding, as opposed to the romantics' white wedding. That would entail everyone in black: tuxes, dresses, whatnot," Sebastian was saying. Blaine's mind however was on the man named Kurt. He must've been sent from above to win his heart.

"Are you listening to me?" Sebastian demanded. "If you're thinking about that peasant, I can and will have him killed, understood?"

"Just because you're from the richest man in New York doesn't mean you can have people killed," Blaine retorted.

"I can't, eh? Watch this. Waiter, get out here!" he yelled. The waiter serving their table hurried out, holding his notepad nervously.

"Yes, Mr. Smythe?" he asked. Blaine saw the man's nametag fall off and he bent down to pick it up. Nicholas Duval, it read.

"Hey, Nicholas, this is yours," Blaine said, holding the nametag up to the man, who looked grateful and took it.

"Thanks," he whispered, brushing a lock of black hair from his eyes.

"Blaine, you're not supposed to help the help. Who raised you? It couldn't have been your parents, seeing as how they both died in that car accident when you were two years old," Sebastian sneered. "Was it your butler? What's her name? Angelica or whatever, did she raise a proper lad? You seem like the same spoiled bitch I always knew."

"Up yours, Smythe," Blaine snarled, standing up and thus getting the attention of the entire restaurant. "You can take this engagement and shove it up your ass." Sebastian scowled and stood up as well.

"You'd better take that back," he hissed. "Say it before I beat the shit out of you in front of all these people."

"Fuck you," Blaine shot back and Sebastian slapped him across the face, making the spectators gasp. "I will not take it back. I'm not going to marry you and you're not getting my inheritance. Goodbye, Sebastian."

"You're going to regret this, Anderson!" Blaine heard Sebastian yell after him.


End file.
